


To Open My Eyes in the Right Way

by Fanhag102



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Morning Sex, slight angst, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-27
Updated: 2014-05-27
Packaged: 2018-01-26 19:29:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1699898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanhag102/pseuds/Fanhag102
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The inevitable Morning After.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Open My Eyes in the Right Way

Stiles groaned and rolled over onto his back, hating the morning and the sunlight that dared pour through the windows and through his closed eyelids. He hated the gross sticky feeling of the sweaty sheets against his skin and the empty space to his left and he lied there hating the morning and that stupid bed and himself being in it and hating even more the idea of getting up to face the sticky, bright, emptiness of the morning he found himself in.

He was so busy hating everything that he had no chance of hearing the wolf-quiet footsteps entering the room and carefully padding over to the bed. He was so busy hating everything that he never saw it coming when the person he hated the most leapt deftly on top of him and pinned his legs down and his arms beside his head and covered him with naked skin and muscle so he could barely squirm in surprise. 

And he was so surprised he barely had time to open his eyes and see stubble and stupid smiling bunny teeth and stupid beautiful hazel eyes and to gasp Derek’s name before Derek pressed his mouth over Stiles’ and took his breath away. Stiles’ stomach did backflips and turn-arounds and he hated that he relaxed so easily into the kiss, sinking down into the bed and letting the man atop him just take, take, take all of him without any hint of a fight. 

“Dude, gross—“ he tried to say when Derek broke the kiss, voice cracking and throat sore. “—morning breathe! Ugh, get off, get off, you’re all sweaty and heavy.”

“No,” Derek grinned, pressing him down with his body, trapping him helplessly with his hands wrapped tightly around Stiles’ wrists and the lower half of their bodies separated only just by the thin sheets. Stiles doesn’t know how he let himself stay here, stay wrapped up in these sticky sheets all through the night. He doesn’t know how he slept so well and so comfortably here, naked and gross, and with Derek’s similar body clutched to him. And he probably should have left, because then Derek couldn’t have him trapped like he does now, and Stiles’ heart wouldn’t be beating out of his chest because he doesn’t know how to handle this situation now, and doesn’t know what to think of last night or this morning when Derek has him pinned with his body and his hungry eyes. 

“I—I—“ Stiles fumbled, unable to think or form words with Derek looking at him like that. He licked his lips and glanced away. Derek’s room is so bare, it’s like no one lives there at all. It’s just a bed and a table and some books in the corner. Stiles remembered making fun of him for it last night, remembered a lot of things happening last night, and swallowed, forgetting what he’d been trying to say. 

“I should, uh, I—“

“No,” Derek cut him off, bending down to place a gentle kiss near his ear—mostly just a scratch of stubble against Stiles’ skin, and then another, lower, on his chin, and then down to his neck where he peppered the skin with little kisses and it takes Stiles until Derek reached his chest that he realizes (and his heart goes into his throat and his lungs can’t seem to get enough air) that Derek is kissing on every little mark he’d left on Stiles the night before. 

“Derek,” Stiles gasped, squirming helplessly, trying to get free of this feeling—this feeling that maybe last night wasn’t a terrible, horrible mistake or an accident that neither of them will talk about again but maybe, maybe Derek wanted it just as much as he did—and he doesn’t quite know how to process that information. 

“Derek—“

“ _Stiles,_ ” Derek growled, in that stupid way that does, and damned if that growl wasn’t the very reason Stiles was in his bed, and fuck him, fuck him for waking Stiles up the best way he’s ever been woken up before, for placing those sweet little kisses against his skin like Stiles is something to be cherished, for fucking him so good the night before that Stiles’ back aches in the best way and is sticky and bruised in all the right places, and fuck him for waking Stiles up so that every reason he had to hate the morning suddenly doesn’t matter anymore. 

He had grown hard beneath Derek’s body, bucking up against the hardness pinning him and still Derek refused to release his hands. They were holding Stiles gently but firmly on his back and forced Derek to rolls his hips to get friction, their cocks still separated by that stupid flimsy, sticky sheet that Stiles hated so much. 

“F-fuck, Derek!” Stiles cried in a feeble echo of the night before, his voice burning in his throat as Derek ran a hot tongue along the edge of his mouth. His hips jerked up again and he could feel tears at the corners of his eyes and hated and loved how trapped he was by Derek’s hands, how he could squirm and buck and try helplessly to move but in the end it was Derek who decided when he would grind down his hips, rubbing them together and creating the kind of friction that made stars pop up in Stiles’ eyes. 

Derek bit down gently and groaned low in Stiles’ ear, rotating his hips hard and fast as Stiles chanted his name and tried helplessly to claw at the hands holding down his wrists. He moved them so much that Derek let go of his wrist to wind his finger between Stiles’, still pressing them firmly to the bed and holding tight, tight as he built Stiles up and up and up. 

Stiles knew he was going to come soon, could feel it all the way in his toes as Derek rubbed slow and steady circles against him, then sped up in jerky thrusts that made Stiles throw his head back and arch his back as he came, then drop to the bed just in time to hear Derek gasp his name in his ear and press down _hard_ as he came, making those already sticky sheets even stickier and Stiles couldn’t find it in himself to care. 

Derek collapsed on top of him, hands finally relaxing and head dropping face-first into the pillow beside Stiles’ head. His breathing was already slowing as Derek’s chest heaved against his, slick with sweat. 

Stiles body didn’t want to move, but he made it move, somehow. He pushed and pushed Derek’s dead-heavy muscles off of himself, grunting breathlessly,

“Uuugh, come on, Derek, you’re hot and heavy, get off!”

“So’re you,” Derek grunted, wrapping an arm around Stiles’ waist and making it very clear that he had no intention of letting Stiles go anytime soon. Stiles huffed. 

“I guess you’re a cuddler, huh?” 

“Couldn’t figure that out last night?” Derek asked, voice gruff and muffled by the way he had his face smashed into Stiles’ shoulder. 

“I—uh, I think I was panicking a little bit last night,” Stiles admitted truthfully. 

Derek peeked up at him with one eye. 

“Why?”

Stiles looked at the way Derek was curled so comfortably around him, with the morning light draping across him from the windows, and he thought about the night before, and the look of determination on Derek’s face when they had kissed, and thought about how Derek had woken him up, forcing him to stay still and be covered by Derek in every way he knew how, and Stiles let himself curl up against Derek’s sticky skin, tangling their legs together and resting his forehead against Derek’s.

“No reason,” he grinned, and closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> My [Tumblr ](http://goodboydummy.tumblr.com/) here. It's a bit like visiting a tourist destination; there's certainly a lot to look at but you sure don't want to stay for very long.


End file.
